


Sorcery, Nature, and a Baker

by Cuddlebug1603



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Magic, Baking, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Hope you like it!, Light Angst, M/M, Mutual Pining, Plot, Plot Twists
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-18
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 15,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29542137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cuddlebug1603/pseuds/Cuddlebug1603
Summary: Logan and Roman have lived in the village their entire lives. Patton and Virgil are moving in, and unbeknownst to each other, things are about to change forever.As they’ll learn, there’s no better way to spend life than with those you love.
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Creativity | Roman "Princey" Sanders, Logic | Logan Sanders/Morality | Patton Sanders
Comments: 4
Kudos: 14





	1. The Bookshop

The red glow of sunset poured in through the window of the bookshop, lighting the inside with warmth and the promise of rest. Books lay on towering shelves and various piles on the floor, pages filled with the temptation of knowledge and discovery.

Logan sighed as the pouring rays met his skin. With the evening light fading, he set down the book he’d been reading, its story the only thing on his mind. 

The rows of buildings and shops across the road from his own were resting, and their owners were leaving for the night, chatting merrily to each other as they walked the long sidewalk leading away from the bustling part of town. Friends, acquaintances, and lovers walked home together.

He’d taken to his reading nook on the second floor as the work day slowed. Unlike many of the townspeople, Logan resided in a flat above his shop. 

The day had not greeted him with many customers. Pushing his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose and delving back into his book, relaxation settled into him as minutes passed in grateful silence but for the chirping of people outside.

...

More recently, however, there had been someone around to break the silence. Indeed, as the sun began to set fully on the horizon, Logan smiled at the distant sound of whistling below. 

Stretching, Logan walked to the balcony to see Roman carrying a large stack of books from the basement.

Roman Ardor, just shy of twenty-two years old, had been working in the shop for the past four years. Though both of them had lived in the village at the same time, they hadn’t known each other until Roman applied for a part-time position. Logan had accepted him promptly.

The young man had not been quiet regarding his passion for the dramatic arts upon his arrival. He participated in the community theatre, and talked constantly of moving away to a bigger, grander city. Eventually, however, Logan observed as Roman took a liking to the village, and as the days went by, his declarations softened. Shortly after rising to a full-time position, Roman confessed to him a desire to become a writer.

He suspected their relationship had been familial for a long time. Despite the unofficially-mentioned status of such a bold statement, he believed it to be true, and held pride in Roman the way he knew most parents did with their young.

Logan snapped out of his thoughts when he saw Roman smiling up at him. 

“You alright, teach?”

He nodded, then remembered something and glared, gesturing towards the windows where the village beyond lay undisturbed. 

“What-” Roman began, then, “Oh! Right! You said I could go home early tonight.”

Logan’s glare did not lessen, but Roman merely shrugged, moving to the shelves and depositing the books in their proper places. He sighed inwardly.

He took the stairs down to Roman’s level, coaxing the books out of Roman’s hands despite his protests and sat with him on one of the many comfortable couches littering the old building.

In seconds, Roman dug a hand into his hair, eyes directed to the floor. “I feel ludicrous. How am I supposed to be a writer when I am bereft of a single thought of what to write next! My next big project, Logan, is completely and utterly beyond me.”

Logan thought for a moment before placing himself next to Roman, embracing him in a sidearm hug. It was a show of affection and support, and he hoped it could convey what he couldn’t in words.

They sat together for a spell, until Roman huffed and started to move. “Right, thanks Specs, I think I needed that. I suppose I’m impatient, I will give the matter time and go from there.”

He nodded, standing with newfound resolution. Then he smiled back at Logan, already heading towards the door. “I’ll take your advice this time and take some time off. See you on Monday?”

Glad to let him rest for a few days, Logan nodded, happy to see him go as long as he held a smile on his face. 

Roman waved and headed out, the bell above the door echoing a sweet jingle in his stead.

...

After taking a moment to reflect, Logan resumed placing the books Roman had brought up onto their shelves. When he finished, he ascended the stairs to his flat on the third floor, picking up the novel he’d been working on from the nook on the way up.

His knuckles whitened on the spine of the book, the stairs paining his knees to an unusually effective degree. He was certainly getting on in years, he thought, but his hairs had yet to turn gray with neither age or stress. An envy accompanied him when comparing himself to say, Roman, which was only natural- but Logan treasured the benefits of age. 

No matter his opinion, time marches on.

The flat was not a palace, and perhaps not as welcoming as the shop. Equipped with a kitchen, study, bedroom, and bathroom, Logan thought it suited him well; the rooms held a certain coolness and individuality, with black-and-blue furniture, posters of astronomy and physics tastefully littering the walls.

He found himself wandering into the kitchen, and, against his better judgement, decided to make some coffee. While waiting on the coffee pot, he grabbed a small plate and snagged a few cookies from the cookie jar.

The pot finished brewing and he poured a cup, not caring to add any sugar or milk for a sharper contrast between it and the cookies.

He had been planning on taking the snack with him to bed, and to spend the night looking at the stars through the skylight above his bed. Just as he was about to sit, he paused, glancing over his shoulder into the darkness of his study.

_ ‘...Just for an hour,’  _ Logan thought, reasonably. And what was an hour, over the entire expanse of time? Practically nothing. Infinitesimal, really.

He retreated casually into the study, setting down his snacks in one of the few clear spaces on the large desk.

This had to be the most cluttered area in the building, if not the whole village. Books, vials, papers, unnamed messes from days gone by, scorch marks- the room had it all. 

He sat down eagerly, snatching up one of the large books and continuing from where he left off, cradling the mug in his hands, occasionally sipping his coffee, savoring the bitterness on his tongue as he read into the night.

At a particularly interesting passage, he pondered, taking one of the cookies from the plate and biting down without much thought.

Logan retched, disliking everything about the taste, texture, and general nature of the cookie. He completely lost his focus, perplexed on how a cookie could be so awful and tragic. On closer inspection, he remembered the stall he’d hopefully purchased the cookies from. After testing the rest of the cookies to no avail (absolutely disappointing, each and every one), he looked at them in dismay, vowing not to buy from that particular vendor in the future.

Then an idea struck him, and he swiped a volume from the floor titled  _ ‘Tasty Transfiguration and You’.  _ Skimming the index, he found a chapter on botched cookies and studied the transcript dutifully. 

After considering all the finer points of the spell, he turned, focusing completely on the disasters before him, reciting the incantation inside his head.

The minutes passed, and the cookies transformed. 

He could feel the blood rushing through his veins and excitement, a heightened sense of joy and energy, though that may have been the caffeine. Nibbling experimentally on the edge of one of the new cookies, a wide grin overtook him as he tasted an average, palatable cookie.

As everyone should know- nothing could stand between a sorcerer and the potential for delicious cookies.


	2. Setting Up

Patton knew that he was not a very strong man. This didn’t bother him; he’d never wanted to be muscular, or ‘cut’, as the youth might say. What did bother him, he thought, trying desperately not to trip onto the pavement, was the straining of his arms under a load of heavy moving boxes.

The morning was quiet and subdued, and if today hadn’t been so important, he would’ve spent it fast asleep like the rest of the world. 

But he couldn’t! Today was the big opening day of his new bakery, in this new town, and he still had lots of prep work to do-  _ including  _ getting the last of his supplies into the darn shop, an idea which his body was resolutely opposed to. 

The flimsy boxes were about to give up, but he had to believe in them for just a little longer.

He had to have been just a few blocks away when he felt his knees begin to wobble and shake, his legs starting to give way. Someone from across the street had crossed, but he was too preoccupied to really notice.

_ ‘Come on,’  _ he prayed silently,  _ ‘just a bit farther and-!’ _

Patton stumbled, catching himself and one other box, but the others tumbled from his arms and fell. He clamped his eyes shut, waiting for the crash of metal. Instead he heard the rustle of cardboard and footsteps.

Snapping open his eyes, Patton switched easily from confusion to relief as he saw a person holding his undamaged boxes.

Behind the large boxes, he couldn’t see who they were, but at the moment he was too grateful to pay any mind.

A significant amount had fallen, leaving Patton with only one box, although the stranger appeared to carry it all with ease- their arms, hidden with hoodie sleeves, weren’t even shaking. 

When the person shifted the boxes to reveal their face, he’d expected to see a large, hulking person. Patton was stunned by the boy he saw instead. He was a bit shorter than Patton and slightly thin, judging from what little of his figure he could see from under an oversized purple and black hoodie. Purple bangs hung in his eyes, which had too many bags for how young he seemed.

Patton quickly shook his head and smiled. “Thank you, I was just about to get squashed under all those!”

The boy nodded, eyes tired. “No problem, where’re you headed? I can walk you there before I head to work.”

“My shop is just down the road,” he said, grateful to be able to feel his arms again. “You’re sure you can carry all that?”

The boy nodded, looking at him neutrally.

Patton thought he was a little quiet, but he would never complain about the opportunity to make a new friend. Maybe he just needed some time to warm up to him?

They headed towards the bakery together.

…

It wasn’t too awkward, and the walk would be shorter with the help. Even so, Patton thought it only polite to start a conversation.

“So,” he turned to face the kid, “you live here in the village, too?”

He shrugged, and his expression was almost a grimace. “Yeah, but it’s only been for a week now. I just opened up my store a few days ago, so...hasn’t been long.”

Patton’s eyes widened. “You have your own store? That’s amazing! I’d be incredibly proud of myself, starting a business at your age,” he commended.

The boy’s eyebrows shot up at the praise.

“I’m actually about to open up for the first time, too,” he continued brightly, “and it’s such an exhilarating thing. What kind of business do you run?”

“I’m...a florist, and a botanist.”

At these words, the boy glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

Patton smiled. “Well, isn’t that something? It takes a real special somebody to go into that line of work.”

Pretending not to see the slight flush on the boy’s face, he motioned for the pair of them to stop. They had gotten to his new bakery.

A feeling of immense satisfaction overtook him as his eyes danced across the storefront. It wasn’t anything fancy but he could just tell- this was going to be a place of joy and community.

Patton had to suppress the urge to run inside. Instead, he bounced on the balls of his feet and addressed the young man. “Gosh, don’t some things in life just make you perfectly content?”

The boy’s nose scrunched at this. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, watching Patton curiously.

Patton was too elated to notice. Shifting the box to free up his right hand, he extended it with an enormous smile. “Thank you so much for helping me, mister…?”

He hesitated, then took Patton’s hand. “Virgil.”

Virgil had the roughest hands Patton had ever felt in his life, which was saying something, as his years were really starting to add up onto his own hands.

“Virgil, what a name- I’m Patton, Patton Hazel. Would you like to come in while I unpack the last of my things? I don’t exactly know anyone here, and I’d love to call you my first new friend.” 

Virgil looked baffled at this.

After a few seconds too long of silence he managed to reply. “Yeah, yeah, I can come in for a minute and...chat, like friends.”

Patton lit up. “Great! Well, if you wouldn’t mind helping a bit more with those boxes…”

…

Patton whisked about the kitchen, taking utensils and other items from those confounded boxes and putting them away. The air was already light with the scent of sugar.

“It smells really nice in here…” Virgil muttered, looking around for the source. He was sitting contentedly at the bar, arms resting on the countertop, the sleeves of his hoodie covering his hands.

Patton smiled cheerily. “I’ve got snickerdoodles in the oven! They’ve been chilling all night, and I want them to be great for when I open up the shop today.”

There was a silence, broken only by metal clacks from Patton moving his stuff.

“Snickerdoodles, snickerdoodles...cool,” Virgil said, a bit awkwardly. “I bet people will like them. People seem nice around here.”

Patton stopped from where he was organizing forks and knives into a drawer. Something was off about his tone, like he was sad, and that would not do in Patton’s bakery. “Virgil, you know you’re not leaving here without a cookie, right?”

Virgil’s eyebrows shot up before furrowing back down. “I’m not?”

“I mean, unless you’d like something else,” Patton gestured kindly to the display case holding various donuts, cookies, and breads. “I made those yesterday, so I promise they’re not stale. You really helped me out today, you deserve it!”

While Virgil seemed to think over his words, Patton turned the light on in the oven, peering inside. They looked absolutely wonderful, so he grabbed some oven mitts and cautiously removed them, one tray at a time, setting the trays in a line.

He flushed with pride as he looked at the snickerdoodles, excitement flooding through him as he imagined people enjoying his work. This is why he baked- the good something as small as a cookie could do for so many special people.

Virgil broke him from his reverie. “Wow, those look amazing.”

Patton grinned, taking off his mitts and locating some cooling racks from under the counter.

“Mister Patton?”

Patton actually laughed at that. “You’re such a sweet young thing- please, just Patton is fine.”

“Do you think, uh...Patton, that I could go back to my shop for a minute?” Virgil said, trying to catch Patton’s eye. “I don’t want to impose or anything, but there’s a flower in my shop that would do really well in here. If that’s alright with you, you know,” he added casually. 

His leg was bouncing up and down, and it was the first time he’d seen him halfway smile. When he saw Virgil’s eagerness, Patton knew he couldn’t say no. “That sounds lovely-”

He didn’t finish his thought before Virgil jumped off the bar stool and headed towards the door. 

“Virgil, wait!”

Virgil paused, his sweater paw on the doorknob.

“How much do I owe you for the flower? You forgot to tell me,” Patton huffed, caught off guard with how fast the boy had moved.

Virgil offered a tiny smile. “We’re...friends, aren’t we? First one’s on me.”

And with that he rushed out of the bakery, leaving Patton feeling soft as he continued to pluck cookies off the trays.


	3. Stumble and Fall

Roman whistled as he skipped down the sidewalk. The morning air blew by in a breeze, capturing how alive and present he felt in that moment.

Yes, he thought, not a thing could go wrong today.

Early autumn brought with it the slow trickle of falling leaves. Even the air seemed to smell of cinnamon.

But no- this wasn’t simply the author’s fanciful imagination. Roman could absolutely detect a delicious scent. 

Walking just a couple blocks down, he found the culprit.

The shop looked small and cute. Peering indoors, he spotted someone moving things out of boxes.

He smiled, heart racing at the potential of a new friend, and before he knew precisely what he was doing he had pushed open the door.

The shop was warm and sweet. Looking around in wonder, he found himself pouring over the glass display stacked with treats. This was great! Logan would be thrilled if this baker turned out to be worth their salt.

The person behind the counter noticed him, smiling up at him from the floor.

“Well, hello there! What might your name be?” The man said.

“Hello, my name is Roman, Roman Ardor,” he stated proudly, “and you?”

“Patton Hazel.”

Patton extended his hand and Roman took it. When he retrieved it, he could feel sugar on his palm.

“Honored to meet you, Patton.” He gazed at the interior decorating approvingly, nodding to himself. “Is this place yours?”

Patton nodded happily, euphoria in his eyes as he also looked around. “Yeah, it’s a real dream come true for me. Do you live near here?”

“I do! It’s a remarkable little village. I’m sure you’ll grow fond of it soon.” He peered into the display case, a sparkle in his eyes. “Or maybe we’ll grow fond of you.”

With a humble wave of his hand, Patton grinned appreciatively at his craft sitting in neat rows. “Oh, thank you, would you like anything?”

“Absolutely. Anyone would be a fool not to take up such an offer.” He pointed to a carmel-drizzled doughnut with gold dusting, reaching for his money pouch. “How much for that delicious-looking morsel?”

“Nothing- first one’s on me.” Patton took the donut, placing it on a small ceramic plate and handing it to him. “To making new friends,” he toasted.

Roman lit up. “To new friends,” he agreed.

And with one bite, Roman could tell this Patton fellow would be a vital asset to the village sweet tooth. It must’ve been the best donut he’d ever had. 

“Are you staying here? Forever and ever?” Roman asked, taking another bite, looking up at Patton with hope in his heart.

Patton flushed, bouncing on his feet. “Well, I’m not sure kiddo. But possibly, if business does okay.”

Roman nodded joyfully. “This is delicious, so I’ll take that as a yes!”

Smiling, Patton got back to his work, leaving Roman to work on his donut. 

Oh, it would be a dream to have such a wonderful baker as part of the village. Logan would be much more content with the occasional sweet.

He chewed thoughtfully, wondering if it was ridiculous to write a poem about a pastry. Something in the back of his brain was nagging him, though, and he felt he couldn’t reach his full creative potential at the moment.

Suddenly he remembered, struck dumb with how he could’ve forgotten.

“Work!” Roman yelped, making Patton’s head whip around, “I just remembered- I’m an adult, I have a job-”

“Oh, well you better get moving then!” Patton encouraged, looking up at a clock on the wall, “Almost nine. Bye, Roman!”

Roman looked up at the clock, too- if he was quick about it he could probably make it before he was late. “Right, thank you for the donut, Patton,” he said, hopping off the stool and rushing to the door. Then with his head turned, “Next time I’ll be sure to bring-”

And just as he pulled open the door he collided bodily with someone, the force of the impact strong enough to knock a flower pot out of their hands. Roman rushed to catch the pot and tripped, expecting to fall flat on his back. 

Except he didn’t make it to the floor. When he opened his eyes, Roman saw an absolutely gorgeous person holding him in a rather intimate dip. 

He was pale, and _ strong  _ judging by how stilly Roman was being held. 

Roman felt his face go red. He wanted to say something, anything, but for the first time in years he was lost for words.

Roman blinked. Then he blinked again, and the romantic atmosphere quite possibly only felt by himself popped. 

He moved to get his feet under him, and the stranger quickly lifted his upper body to support him. Roman only blushed harder at how easily he’d done it, and when they were both standing, just a bit further apart than before, he could still feel warm hands on his back.

The person’s eyes were thrown wide, face pink. Roman could only imagine how red he must’ve been.

He realized he was holding something like a lifeline. A plant, a flower in a pot- it was beautiful, and he held it out to the person when his brain decided to start whirring again. “Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he rushed.

As the person took the flower, still looking at him, Roman was careful to not let their hands accidentally brush. Trying to look anywhere but them, his eyes landed gratefully on Patton, who was watching the pair of them curiously.

“Roman? Weren’t you going to work?” Patton hinted, an edge of playfulness in his voice.

“Work…? Oh, right, work!” He looked at the clock, realising he was definitely going to be late now. He paused, giving the person an apologetic smile and ducking around him.

He pushed through the door and walked briskly down the sidewalk, not walking or acting any different than he normally would.

When he rounded the corner of the street he stopped, leaning on the wall and putting his face in his hands, burning up at the thought of what just happened. 

It was incredible, because that sort of thing simply did not  _ happen  _ in real life. He wasn’t sure he’d ever even written anything like that before. And what made it all worse was that person, who was strong and beautiful and-

He really was going to be late if he didn’t get to work soon. He almost ran to the shop, electric with the things he was going to be able to tell Logan.

…

Roman raced through the door, closing it with an anguished sigh before slumping over Logan’s desk, head in his elbows.

He knew what Logan was thinking.

“You know, I actually have a great reason for being late this time,” he said weakly into the desk, “I met some people on my way here.”

Looking up, he saw a neutral expression pass over his face. Logan had never been the social type.

He started to explain anyway. “Well, the one seemed about your age. His name is Patton, and…” Roman paused dramatically, “he’s a baker.”

Now  _ that  _ got Logan’s attention. He turned, book forgotten, questioning him with his intense stare.

“He let me have a donut, and let me tell you, it was absolutely the best I’d ever had. Even better than the one that closed a while back, you remember the one?”

Logan nodded solemnly, quickly replacing his expression to one of calm excitement.

He couldn’t wait to take him to Patton’s bakery. “We could go now!”

Logan looked sternly at him, tapping his finger over the face of his watch.

Deflating slightly, Roman kept a positive spirit, even if the odds of running into that person again were dwindling. “I’m sure we can visit at some point. He was positively radiant with happiness, I believe we will end up becoming friends soon.”

Logan shrugged, a small grin on his face as he returned to his book.


	4. Unorthodox

Logan checked his watch, leaning back in his chair contentedly. It had been a long day, with this lull in customers being the only one they’d had in hours, people frantic to get themselves books to read outside while the weather remained cool and pleasant. The work day was fairly young, but the business days were only going to get longer with the winter season.

Plus, they had somewhere to be today.

Roman passed by his desk as he swept dust bunnies around, humming a song. 

Logan stood, walking to the door where his coat hung on a hook next to Roman’s and taking them both into his arms.

This caught Roman’s attention and he stopped his sweeping. “What, are we ending early today? I admire your thinking, bossman,” he said, cheerily leaning his broom against the wall and coming to where Logan stood.

Logan nodded and handed Roman his jacket, allowing him to put it on before grabbing his arm and pointing to himself, then outside.

“We’re going somewhere? Book auction, perchance?” Roman said, intrigued.

Shaking his head, Logan pointed down the street.

Roman lit up, clapping his hands together. “Oh, we’re going to the bakery! Thank goodness, I thought you had forgotten.”

He turned his head skeptically before opening the door for Roman, turning to lock it behind him.

“Yes, I am excited at the prospect of seeing dear old Patton again,” Roman sighed wistfully, “it is tragic that you haven’t met him until now. He may be one of the kindest people I’ve ever met.”

Logan rolled his eyes at this, replacing the key in his pocket and following Roman down the sidewalk. It had only been a few days since Roman first visited Patton, and he was clearly exaggerating the man’s kindness for his generosity in giving a few sweets. It was too much to hope for, a person who was kind and baked well.

...

The wind blew crisply by them, weaving around the many people bustling up and down the street. A good number of them were whispering excitedly, heading the same direction they were.

_ ‘People are funny’  _ , Logan thought, smiling as a boy and a girl raced by, laughing and holding hands.

Roman smiled as well, face pensive.

Before Logan had the chance to ask, Roman pointed to a building a block ahead with a small crowd inside, all chatting merrily.

“That’s the one,” Roman stated, a note of wonder in his tone, “and by the looks of it, we’re not the only ones who wanted to be here tonight.”

Logan grimaced. He didn’t do well with crowds for multiple reasons, and he took a tiny step back on instinct.

“Hey.” Roman put a hand on his shoulder. “We don’t have to go tonight if you don’t want to.”

It was tempting, but Logan shook his head resolutely, clenching his fists and shoving them into his pockets. His hand found his miniature notebook, always on him for safekeeping, and he relaxed significantly.

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Roman said, supportively, “we can find a table and wait for the shop to empty a bit of patrons before you meet him.”

He nodded, thinking this an acceptable plan, and his worry vanished at the thought of the charismatic Roman being there to save him from himself.

…

The bakery was not packed as it appeared from afar, but there were enough people there to create a pleasant buzz of conversation. 

Large amounts of people as a  _ group  _ did not bother him- large amounts of people simply increased the odds of a person attempting to  _ converse  _ with him, and he did not like that.

He nudged Roman, pointing to a table set near the corner of the room, and they went to sit down.

Bakeries always gave him a certain rush. The confections, the pleasant atmosphere…

Owners, on the other hand, made him wary. Countless times in his life, a baker would move to the village and establish themselves, claiming to have the best sweets, the cheapest, the fanciest, et cetera. 

When Logan would visit these places as a child and an adolescent, the owners would be thrilled and joyful to see him, letting him try their incredible treats and indulging him in kindness.

He found that the ‘kindest’ people always sold the most rotten things, tasting like chemicals and burning. Expressing these feelings turned the owners’ attitudes sour and unpleasant, so he simply quit telling them.

Roman slumped in his chair as he looked around the shop, breaking Logan from his bitter memories.

He thought he knew what was wrong. In the past two days, Logan had gotten a detailed report of this mystery boy Roman had bumped into on his way out of the bakery. When Logan asked him why he didn’t just ask Patton who the boy was, Roman dismissed him, declaring how unromantic that would be.

He met Roman’s eyes, trying to convey his sympathy and slight amusement in a look.

It must’ve worked because Roman’s face turned pink and his mood became prickly. “Shut up Logan, I’m  _ trying  _ to make a perfect first greeting, I hardly got to speak with him the first time we met.”

Before Logan could remind him there was no such thing as perfection, Roman brightened, noticing how many less customers there were. And as Logan looked around as well, they heard a voice which caught both of their attention.

“Ah! Roman, you’re back!”

The baker had called to Roman, waving and beckoning towards the counter. Roman, smiling, pushed himself out of the chair and pranced to the counter. Logan followed at a slower pace. Roman had said good things about the man, after all, so he kept a neutral expression.

He had to try diligently to keep his face neutral, however. Patton was remarkably handsome. His hair was brown and fluffy, and he had glasses, just like him. There were a few lines in his face, but they were born from laughter and joy. He was shorter than Logan, too- a good hugging height.

Logan bit his lip to keep himself present.

Patton greeted Roman again as the two of them reached the counter, smiling widely. “Roman, it’s great to see you back here again! And who’s this you brought...”

Patton looked at Logan and his eyes widened, sentence dying in his throat, smile falling. Something had taken Patton’s breath away. He recovered quickly, almost convincing Logan that he’d imagined it.

Clearing his throat, Patton replaced his smile with a soft grin, extending his hand cordially. “Sorry, that was awful rude of me- my name is Patton Hazel, what’s yours?”

Logan, with a heavy heart, took his pencil and notebook from his pocket, writing in it before holding it out to Patton for him to read.

_ ‘Hello Patton, my name is Logan Taylor. I cannot speak.’ _

He rather disliked this part, the shift in a stranger’s gaze when they realized he was silent. Many even regarded him with pity or disgust, and each time it put a bit more sadness into his soul.

Patton’s head tilted as he read the paper, then he handed it back with a smile. “Logan Taylor, huh? What a lovely name, would you like to sit down and chat?” He gestured kindly to the tables.

Logan’s face flushed and his mind whirled. Patton didn’t even mention it, the thing that had put a strain on every single relationship with another human being in his life up to this moment.

...With the exception of Roman, who was currently looking between him and Patton, excitement and disbelief in his eyes. “That sounds great, Patton,” Roman said, convincingly, “but I’m afraid I really do need to be heading home.”

Logan’s eyes widened. Was that boy _ actively  _ trying to get him alone with Patton? A quick glance confirmed his suspicions as Roman gave him a winning smile.

Patton didn’t seem to completely buy Roman’s falsehoods, but for reasons unbeknownst to Logan, he appeared untroubled with the news. “Oh, are you sure, Roman? Well, I’m sure we can find the time to talk later.”

“We absolutely can,” Roman assured him, “Logan, I’ll see you at work,” he continued, walking out the door. 

He stared exasperatedly at the boy as he disappeared. And then he found himself completely alone with Patton. He coughed, trying to ease the tension he felt.

Patton, on the other hand, did not look nervous in the slightest. When he met Logan’s gaze again, he laughed, eyes lidded. “Roman looked like he was in a hurry, all of a sudden.”

Logan gave an apologetic smile, retrieving his pencil to write another message.  _ ‘Yes, he is prone to dramatics.’ _

“Aren’t we all, sometimes,” Patton said. “Now- my invitation still stands. Would you like to sit down, Logan? I’d love to get to know you better.”

Logan tamped down the blush threatening to paint him. This was ridiculous, one kind person and he was falling to pieces. He nodded, trying to look casual- not  _ ecstatic  _ at the notion of a new friend who would actually sit down and ‘talk’ to him like a normal human.

Patton moved around the counter, pulling out a chair for Logan at a nearby table. Logan blinked, then sat down gratefully, Patton taking a seat opposite him.

“So,” Patton said, “what do you do for a living?”

_ ‘I run a bookshop, with Roman working full-time,’  _ Logan inscribed. 

“Oh, that’s nice! Is he yours?”

Logan blinked, then he scrambled for his notepad, flattered.  _ ‘No, no, he isn’t mine. We met four years ago, but-‘ _

He hesitated.  _ ‘I care for him as a father would.’ _

“Ah,” Patton said, leaning forward, resting his elbows on the table, “I see.”

There was a silence. Both of them looked out the window, stealing glances at each other.

_ ‘Has the town been treating you well?’ _

Patton nodded, smiling effortlessly. “Yeah, everyone here seems nice. How long have  _ you  _ been here, Logan?”

_ ‘For my entire life. Roman has also been here since birth.’ _

“Not going anytime soon, I hope.”

Patton winked, and Logan’s heart beat a little faster, hands fumbling as he wrote.

_ ‘No, I don’t think we will be. There’s a certain uniqueness in the air in this village. I certainly hope you’ll come to the same conclusion.’ _

Patton hummed, adjusting his glasses, a faraway look in his eyes as he gazed out of the window.

…

Time passed, Logan reveling in the polite conversation, the sun beginning to set fully over the horizon, turning the sky pink. He felt strangely childish and giddy, the smile on his face potentially neverending.

Patton seemed pleased as well. When he looked out the window, his eyebrows lifted, taking in the late hour. “Gosh, it’s late- time flies when you’re having fun, huh?”

He nodded, half-perplexed with his words.

Perhaps it had shown, because Patton’s face worried. “Oh, um...were you not having as good of a time as I was?” His smile grew an edge of sadness.

_ ‘Nonsense, Patton, this was a wonderful evening!’  _ Logan wrote, earnest.  _ ‘I had a wonderful time. Conversely, haven’t you been speaking to people all day?’ _

Patton sighed, tiredness making its way into his gaze as he stared down into the table, eyelids drooping. “I guess I have, but I didn’t really get to sit down with anyone to talk- most of them were just here for the sweets.”

He chuckled, only making him look more bleak. “I shouldn’t really be complaining. I just thought people would see me for me, you know?”

_ ‘People are prejudiced against what they don’t know,’  _ Logan found himself writing,  _ ‘I’m sure they will warm up to you. You are a delightful person.’ _

Patton grinned. “Thank you, Logan. You have an incredible heart and mind.”

Logan smiled and retrieved his notepad, taking care as he wrote. He wanted to thank him for being kind as Roman said, to show his appreciation, but not sound overly sentimental towards a man he just met. 

_ ‘It was nice to meet you, Patton Hazel. I must take my leave, however I would find great enjoyment by sharing your company again.’  _

He stood, holding out his hand.

Patton smiled, standing and taking it. His grip was gentle, and he never broke eye contact. “The pleasure was all mine, Logan Taylor.” 


	5. Frolicking

Virgil brushed his hand against the tree, the strength of the bark unyielding. He looked up into the branches and grinned as he watched a leaf flutter down with the breeze to land gracefully on his foot.

“Thank you very much,” he said to the tree. He picked up the leaf and sat down, taking out his sketchbook. 

In the ground, the roots were twisted like thick wooden pythons.

Plants had always been Virgil’s inspiration. Ever since he’d learned to draw, they’d become his muse, adding a spark of creativity to his notes and research.

He’d been itching for the opportunity to investigate these woods. Just outside of town, it seemed most people didn’t venture into them, but that did nothing to deter him- he liked being alone.

Virgil looked up at the tree, setting down his sketchbook. “I’ve never met your species before.”

The tree swayed in the wind.

“I’m not from here,” he continued, “I’m trying to get to know the local flora, discover new things, you know.”

He picked up some pebbles, rolling them in his hands. The tree watched curiously.

“Do you look different in the winter? I could do more sketches, if you wouldn’t mind it.”

The tree didn’t move or speak. Virgil decided to take this as a no, and he shrugged. “You’re still wonderful.”

He dusted himself off, moving to stand. “Say, before I go,” he said, an idea striking him as he collected his things, “you wouldn’t know if there’s anything interesting around here, would you?”

Light fell from the branches. It took a minute, but the light stretched across the ground, pointing towards a shadowy arch of trees leading into darkness.

Virgil beamed- he must’ve skipped over that bit when he combed the area. The potential intrigued him: how many incredible species had he met which flourished in the absence of light? Spider Plants, Devil’s Ivy, Moth Orchids…

The memories rushed over him, and he was quick to thank the tree before standing and making his way to the arch.

As he approached, his excitement dimmed, a chill settling over his skin. A familiar feeling shot through his arms. Shock registered with his body before his brain managed to catch up.

“Magic…” he whispered. He could feel it, pass it between his fingers like silk.

Virgil bit his lip. Magic had gotten him in trouble in the past.

The twisting branches of the trees were beckoning him, however. He knew he was going in. 

As he stepped past the arch, the air returned to normalcy.

…

Walking slowly, the trees let in less and less sunlight the farther he went. The trees had become thinner and more numerous. 

None of this frightened Virgil; he was raised in the dark, so he could see pretty well, and the trees were always on his side. What  _ he  _ had to be worried about was wild animals. 

As soon as he thought the darkness could go no deeper, he saw the trees begin to widen, spreading out again. A bit of light came back, enough for him to see a large, bright clearing in the distance. 

He heard something. It sounded cheerful, and he assumed it to be a bird.

Virgil moved forward and it was completely sunny again. Trees loosely surrounded the clearing like curtains. He stopped short, taking in what he could see from behind the trees. 

The best word he could use would have to be ‘tangled’. Vines hung in disarray from branches; bushes clashed together like incorrect puzzle pieces; neon weeds strangled each other, hidden in the wild grass; mushrooms of several toxic origins grew at the gnarled roots of the trees…

The bird from earlier was chirping closer now, like it was in the clearing. Virgil smiled at the sound, relaxing against a tree trunk, looking at the mangled beauty of this odd place. He appreciated nature’s eccentricities. 

Magic whisked around his neck, licking at his ears. 

When he listened, the bird’s song was actually a melody. Maybe the bird was magical, too? Then the whistles turned to singing, and Virgil froze, thankfully hidden from view as he shrunk backwards. That wasn’t a bird...it sounded like a guy.

‘Well, great,’ Virgil thought to himself, deciding whether he should stay or just leave. His social skills weren’t great, so talking to the guy might be awkward, but he really wanted to see those plants.

The man’s voice was nice. He sounded younger like him, so maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.

He sneaked back a ways on the path then walked back ever-so casually. The guy wore white and red, from what he could see.

When he stepped into the clearing, the guy didn’t see him, too busy with whatever song it was, but Virgil instinctively stepped back when he saw his face.

It was the handsome guy he’d run into at Patton’s. Well, the guy was the one who ran into him.

He blushed at the memory. When Virgil thought about it, he almost wished it hadn’t happened. He caught him in a  _ dip,  _ on accident, and he had such nice eyes, and-

The guy had spotted him and Virgil snapped back to the present. He had a look of surprise on his face until he took in Virgil’s appearance. Then he blushed, hard.

“Uh, hello there! I’m not sure you remember me,” the guy started.

“Yeah, no, I remember,” Virgil nodded, “sorry about that, I was rushing.”

“No, no, I certainly wasn’t looking where I was going. Thank you for...catching me.”

“No...problem,” Virgil said.

He was dying on the inside.

They shuffled their feet awkwardly. 

Searching for literally  _ anything  _ else to talk about, Virgil spotted a red and black vine crawling down the side of the tree closest to them. He went immediately into danger mode, grabbing the guy by the arm and power walking to the middle of the clearing.

The guy went willingly, but he looked very confused.

“Why are you here when there are plants like  _ that  _ absolutely everywhere?” he hissed, pointing to the vine in disgust. “That thing could have killed you!”

“Ah, really? Thank you, I’ll keep my eyes peeled for it from now on,” he said, smiling. “My name is Roman, by the way.”

He frowned at Roman. “I’m Virgil- but seriously man, you shouldn’t be in a place like this.”

Roman sighed, spinning around to look at the plants. Sure, Virgil could appreciate it for the rare, possibly unique specimen, but Roman didn’t seem to be here for that. “Perhaps you’re right. My da- I mean, my boss, Logan, has been advising against this place for weeks now. There’s simply something in the air here which continues to lead me back.”

Roman seemed to be in constant movement as he spoke, his happiness like an aura.

Virgil kept quiet. He could feel it too, the magic, but it really would be better if Roman stopped coming here.

“...Would you maybe want to take me out?”

Roman’s eyebrows rose.

Virgil backpedaled hastily. “I mean, I...I don’t really know my way around the town. I just moved, don’t know much more than the street I’m on,” he said, feeling awkward.

In contrast to his fumbling, Roman looked like some kind of prince, expression kindly. “That sounds like an offer I can’t refuse- Virgil, right? I’ll show you the absolute best of the best we have to offer.”

“Uh-“ Virgil said, a bit confused. He hasn’t expected Roman to actually take him up on his request. “You don’t really have to, I’m sure I’ll find my way around eventually. I was just checking out the local plants in this forest, expanding my horizons,” he said, holding out his journal for him to see. Roman looked at it curiously.

“You work with plants?” Roman thought for a second, recognition flaring behind his eyes when he spoke again. “That’s right, I recall you holding a flower when I first saw you, it was magnificent! I presume you cultivated it yourself?”

Virgil cracked a smile, hugging his book to his chest. “Yeah, I guess I did.”

“Now don’t be modest! From what I can tell, you have a resplendent eye for this.”

“Oh, thanks,” he mumbled, “what about you? Are you a singer, or...something like that?” He was  _ not  _ going to directly ask if he was a model.

Roman grinned. “I used to sing, when I was in the local community theatre, but now I’m a writer.” He paused, looking thoughtful. “I also have a hand in the village’s non-human population. Animals usually take a liking to me, so people started asking me to help with them.”

Virgil had a sudden image in his mind of Roman dancing and singing in the clearing, woodland creatures surrounding him.

He shook his head to clear it, stepping closer to Roman. “I guess when I start to work with the plants around town, we’ll probably run into each other pretty often.”

“Yes, I suppose we shall,” Roman agreed, “would you care to go back to town now? I will accompany you, if you wish.”

Virgil nodded, and they both headed towards the entrance.

...

“I’m glad I ran into you again, Virgil.”

They were walking back in the darkness. With Roman there, he’d lost focus on the plants, his mind concerned more with getting  _ away  _ from that death trap.

“Yeah, same here.”

The area around them was quiet. Virgil found it pleasant this time, but something about Roman seemed a bit off.

He cleared his throat, looking straight ahead. “You doing okay? Not scared of the dark or anything?”

“Oh, no, it’s not that...can I ask you something, Virgil?”

He couldn’t see, but Roman sounded like he was facing him. _‘He probably_ _has some kind of cute, concerned look on his face,’_ Virgil thought, irritably.

“What’s up, Roman.”

“Well,” Roman said, nervously, “would you think I was odd if I told you I have magic?”

Virgil stopped dead on the path. 

Roman’s arm brushed past his in the dark, and he called out worriedly. “Virgil? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to frighten you!”

He was dazed, and he whispered to himself in astonishment. “There’s people like me here…”

“Virgil, did you say something? Where are you?”

He heard footsteps, then felt a hand on his chest. It jumped quickly to his arm. 

“Ah, sorry! Can’t see.”

Virgil could feel his heart beating steadily. “You’re magic? You can really do magic?”

“Well, uh,” Roman faltered, hand slipping off his arm, “it’s nontraditional magic, but I can influence the actions of animals. They understand what I say to them, and when I’m nice, they usually listen.”

He could hear Roman shifting his feet as he talked. “Does this make you uncomfortable? I wouldn’t want it to sour your opinion of my character if I didn’t tell you.”

Virgil shook his head, remembering afterwards that he couldn’t see the sincerity in his expression. “No, no...I think it’s great, Roman,” he assured him,”I didn’t know people around here could do magic.”

Roman sighed. “It’s certainly not widespread. I’m one of merely two in this village- of those I know, anyway.”

Virgil bit his lip. What was he supposed to tell him? Should he be honest? 

He didn’t know this guy. “I think it’s cool, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with being different. What kind of stuff do animals tell you? Any impressive stories?”

...

That did the trick. Roman began telling the most incredible tales about his work with the village animals, forgetting his momentary trepidation. As they left the darkness of the narrow path, Virgil started to see him moving his hands wildly as he spoke, clearly passionate. Roman had a natural bounce to his walk.

He watched with amusement, a small knot tightening in his stomach. He sort of wanted to tell Roman- to be as honest with Roman as he’d been earlier.  _ ‘I wouldn’t want it to sour your opinion of my character if I didn’t tell you’,  _ he’d said.

Would Roman be upset with him when he found out? 

For now, he listened to Roman’s stories, letting the knot twist.


	6. Busy Streets

Patton yawned, stretching his arms. It was almost time for the shop to close. He drug his feet from out behind the counter, falling into the closest chair with a thump, sighing deeply as he felt sunlight hit his face.

The evening was drawing near, the sky dimming into a yellow sunset. Clouds hung in the air as if they had been pinned.

He was already relaxed, but the view made it even worse.

Patton looked down into his hands. They felt cold, tired, and bereft. He carded them through his hair, trying to get rid of the feeling.

Slowly, he pushed his chair in and headed for the door.

…

There were a few people out near the center of town, more than were ever out at this time of day. Many said hello or waved when they walked by him, carrying bags and parcels.

Patton took in all the people with delighted confusion. “Excuse me,” he stopped a young woman, who also held some bags in her arms, “but what is everyone up to tonight?”

“You must be new,” she said, adjusting her bags happily. “Tonight is the opening night of the farmer’s market! It’s opened at night, so we usually call it the ‘Night Market’. There’s always a bunch of vendors here selling fresh ingredients and snacks.“ 

She grinned, walking briskly away.

Before Patton could thank her, the girl shouted something over her shoulder. “Great place to take a date if you have one!”

And then she was gone, leaving Patton standing on the sidewalk to process this new information.

Going to a farmer’s market sounded _wonderful_ right now. He could get some things for the bakery, meet new people, have some fun!

His mind was made, so he started in the direction of where the people with bags were coming from until the girl’s last suggestion caught up to him. 

It made him wonder if Logan would like to go.

‘As friends, obviously,’ he thought hastily, ‘we’ve barely gotten to know each other.’

Well, if he was being honest with himself, he might be crushing on him just a little bit. It’s not like it was his fault! Logan was adorable, and sweet, and intelligent; he wasn’t going to make it awkward by asking him out. It’d been a long time since he’d been in a relationship, and he was definitely ready to try again, but…

Patton looked up. The last of the light was melting from the sky.

It couldn’t hurt to ask Logan out to the market- he was sure Logan wouldn’t take it as some sort of romantic gesture. 

‘And if he did…’ Patton thought wistfully, ‘that wouldn’t be so bad.’

…

It didn’t take long to find the bookshop. Logan had said he worked as a bookseller, so when he asked some people about nearby places to get books, they were eager to tell him about the huge shop- the one with the cool, quiet owner, a few even mentioning his dramatic son. The shop was clearly loved and visited often.

The street was only five minutes from his own. The bookshop sat in the middle of the other buildings, lit up from the inside. 

Patton brightened. ‘Good, that means he’s probably still there!’

As he approached, street lights turning themselves on with the night, he saw someone leaving the bookshop.

“Hey, hey Roman!”

Roman turned, grinning widely at the sight of him. “Why hello Patton! What brings you here this fair evening?”

He jogged a bit to catch up to him at the door. “I was gonna ask Logan if he wanted to go to the Night Market with me! Is he still here?”

Roman chuckled, shifting his bag to his other shoulder. “Seeing as he lives here, there’s hardly a time he’s _not_ here. But hang on- you’re asking Logan out?” he asked, expression gleeful before realizing what he’d said. “Ah, but that’s a rather personal question.”

Patton patted him on the shoulder, smiling gently. “It’s okay, Roman. But no, I’m not asking him out.”

He laughed awkwardly, looking at the ground. “Sorry, I thought you two would be lovely together. Got ahead of myself.”

“Things like that take time, kiddo.”

“Right, right,” Roman sighed, gazing into the shop window.

He looked in too. The shop was big and stacked to the brim with books, and he saw Logan sitting at a front desk, reading.

Their breathing almost fogged up the glass with how chilly it was getting outside. Fall was almost over.

Roman cleared his throat. “Well, I’m heading home for the night. Have lots of fun with Logan- I’m sure he’ll accept your proposal,” he said. His face became cheerful again, and with a thumbs-up, he started down the street.

Patton rubbed his arm, feeling guilty. What was he supposed to say? ‘Yeah, I think your boss is incredible even though we only just met. I’m here to ask him out! Hope he likes me, or is even interested in men!’ 

That was just too much. He couldn’t bear it if he accidentally screwed up this maybe-friends thing before it even started.

He opened the door and went inside, a little bell announcing his arrival. 

The inside was even bigger than it seemed. Row after row of neatly organized books sat on the shelves without a speck of dust on them, and rather unlike most bookshops he’d ever been to, he didn’t see a single damaged copy. 

Logan looked up curiously from the desk. He started to do something with his hands, then saw Patton and dropped them hastily, standing and taking his notepad from where it sat on his desk, briefly writing something down while walking over to greet him. 

_‘Salutations, Patton. I trust the day has treated you well?’_

“Yeah, my day’s going great! I like your shop, it’s really neat.”

Logan stood taller as he wrote. _‘Yes, I take my livelihood seriously. Only the best for those in the pursuit of knowledge.’_

Patton chuckled at the determination on his face. “Well, you’re done working for today though, right?”

He nodded, blinking at him. 

“I came by because I heard there’s some kind of farmer’s market going on in town, and I was wondering if you’d like to join me. I heard it’s a fun place to go with somebody you like,” he said earnestly, “and I like you! So I thought it’d be fun!”

Logan’s hand clenched around the pen he was holding, his face turning a little pink. Patton tried his best to ignore how cute he looked, offering his most genuine smile.

“I really would like to get to know you, you know,” he persisted gently, “it doesn’t have to be the market. We could stay here, or make plans for some other time…”

Logan’s demeanor softened. He handed Patton the notebook again. _‘I deeply appreciate your kindness and gladly accept your invitation to the market. Would you like to go now?’_

Patton clasped his hands together and nodded, doing a fist pump in his head. 

…

This Night Market, Patton realized, was clearly a local tradition. The second they arrived, the streets filled with people, idling around the many vendors and stalls. Everything material a person could ever want was probably somewhere in this place, and the friendly bustle felt warm and inviting.

As they walked to the entrance, Patton had to talk louder to be heard over the noise. “Wow, this place is loaded!”

Logan nodded vaguely, not looking at him.

Patton noticed, stopping on the sidewalk and nudging him. “Hey, you okay there?”

His eyes left the people and he grabbed his notebook. He handed it to him with a worried smile.

_‘Yes, I’m alright. Places like this make me nervous.’_

“How come?”

Logan grimaced, a forlorn shadow crossing over him as he wrote. _‘Many reasons. I could lose my notebook, one of my only forms of communication. If I lost you, it would be difficult to find you again in the crowd. Most jarringly, there are many people in this world who do not take my affliction as lightly as you do and strive to be as unpleasant as possible.’_

“Oh,” Patton stumbled, reading with an increasing level of uncertainty, “we, uh, don’t have to go in tonight? I’m sure it’ll be less full in a few days, or at a different time, or-“

Logan held up his hand, giving him the notebook again, a new message inscribed on the page. 

_‘No, it’s quite alright, Patton. I believe the positive experience in joining you tonight will override any doubts or fears I have.’_

He started writing something else, blushing pink before hastily scribbling it out, putting the book back in his pocket and gesturing towards the market.

When they got to the market, Logan started to look a bit calmer. Still, his eyes would occasionally dart over to him, checking to see if he was there. 

Before he could think about what he was doing, Patton took Logan’s hand in his own. 

Logan down at their hands, eyes wide, looking up at Patton questioningly. 

“So you don’t lose me,” Patton beamed, holding up their hands.

Logan smiled gratefully, looking at the first of the items on the stalls.

…

They were still holding hands as they left the marketplace, and Patton knew it’d been one of the best decisions he’s made since moving here.

They would take turns pulling each other to different places; Logan introduced him to everyone he knew from the village, Patton would rush them over to food vendors...Logan, apparently, had a real sweet tooth, and this excited him to no end. He liked space- he was _this_ close to buying a tiny model of the solar system. He did end up buying a few books, and when he showed them to Patton, he saw that the titles were written in a language he couldn’t read. 

Even though all this stuff was invaluable to know about his new friend, hanging out with him really showed him a new layer. When communicating with others, he would use incredible body language, speaking to people in a way that was articulate and understandable. 

He was polite, and patient, and Patton could not for the life of him figure out why he wasn’t married already. ‘Maybe he doesn’t do any of that. Or maybe he’s already been married?’

Glancing discreetly at Logan, Patton couldn’t see any of the tells of a widow, or a divorcee, and he wasn’t about to ask if he was wrong.

They turned a corner, and Patton remembered the street as Logan’s. Soon they were back in front of the bookstore.

The two of them smiled at each other, lost in thought.

Logan got his notebook. He hesitated, then took his hand out of Patton’s to grab his pencil.

_‘Tonight was wonderful, Patton.’_

“Yeah, it was pretty nice,” he agreed, “everyone was so happy out there tonight, and the food was delicious! I’m glad you found some books you liked.”

Patton hadn’t bought anything, like he’d planned to earlier.

Logan hummed, taking his parcel of books and giving them a fond appraisal.

He sighed: another thing he’d found out was that Logan could make sounds. They were quiet and slightly hoarse, but cute. 

‘ _Yes_ , _this is a rather unique collection I’m looking forward to working with.’_

Logan tapped the pencil onto the paper, eyes narrowed at the words. 

Right when Patton was about to ask what was up, Logan wrote again. The text almost looked like cursive with how fast it’d been written.

_‘Please wait here. I’ll be right back.’_

Then he turned into his bookshop. Patton saw him through the window going upstairs and disappearing in the dark. 

He stood perplexed for about a minute until Logan came back. His books were gone, replaced with his notebook.

Logan held out his notebook to Patton for him to take, but when he did, he noticed all the pages were blank, in fact it seemed to be brand new. 

Looking up, he saw Logan writing in what was clearly his own book. After he finished, he didn’t hold it out for him, instead tapping on the face of the new one in his hands.

Patton did a double take- there was a message, in Logan’s handwriting no less.

_‘To: Patton_

_This is for you, if you would like it. It is capable of long-range instant communication. It would allow us to keep in touch, if you so desire.’_

Patton stared down at the notebook in disbelief. “I...I don’t know what to say,” he stammered, “Logan, this thing is incredible! You’re really sure I can keep it? Oh, this’ll be so great, we can talk all the time with these!”

Logan blushed and nodded, tucking his notebook away. 

Patton followed suit, ecstatic and bubbly. “Looking forward to it. I can’t wait to talk to you again.”

He smiled down at him one last time, turning to leave.

“Ah, wait!”

Logan paused, hand on the doorknob.

“Can I hug you?” Patton asked hopefully, “nothing solidifies a friendship like a good ol’ hug.”

Logan thought about it, then shrugged, holding his arms out. Patton beamed, rushing forward and giving him the nicest hug he had. 


	7. Connections

He addressed the top of the page.

_‘To: Roman, Patton, Logan’._

Virgil clicked his pen, a feeling of dread in his chest.

_‘Hi. Roman gave me this earlier and told me how to use it, so I thought I would try it out.’_

He pushed himself away from the desk, chair scraping on the wooden floor. His heart beat into his ears.

The new shop was incredible. When he first bought it, it was empty, with dusty wooden shelves built into the walls. Over the last few days, however, he’d scavenged around the forest and found dozens of plants he could care for. Asking around, there were also quite a few people who wanted to donate their plants. So now he was running a florist-slash-rehabilitation center, the insides warm from heat lamps, the old wood floor polished, vines curling around the walls and towards the numerous windows.

Virgil usually felt calm here. Now, after writing a tiny little note, he felt terribly anxious.

He grabbed his watering can and watered some flowers, running a finger over some of the petals. What if the book thing had been Roman’s idea of a practical joke? He wasn’t sure communicating with books was possible.

A small scratching noise caught his attention. First he thought of mice, but then he noticed something on the paper. 

Virgil peered over at the desk from where he stood, almost dropping the watering can when he saw words appearing on the notebook, like they were being written by an invisible hand.

_‘Ah, this must be Virgil. Salutations.’_

“Fucking hell,” he muttered, eyes wide as he took in the words.

Soon enough, another line appeared. The handwriting was a lot messier than the other. _‘Hey kiddo! Logan, you made him one too? That’s great!’_

He smiled- he really liked Patton, and Roman had told him about Patton liking Logan.

_‘Virgil, though we have not formally met, Roman has assured me of your character. He was ecstatic at the notion of giving you one of these books.’_

Virgil chuckled, hand still a bit shaky with nerves. _‘Doesn’t he have one, too?’_

The reply was practically instant- Logan could write both faster and neater than anyone he’d ever met. 

_‘Yes, Roman has a notebook. He does not, to my knowledge, carry it on him.’_

_‘But that’s probably gonna change soon :D’_

He was about to write ‘hope so’, but whatever dregs of dignity he had stopped him.

The plants seemed to pout as he got up to water them some more: when he passed them, he could hear sly whispers, see them pouting up at him. 

He put a hand on his hip, looking around defensively. “Don’t you guys have anything better to talk about than my love life,” Virgil said, firing up.

A lily mumbled something to her neighbor, but the whole room heard it anyway.

“No,” he sighed, running a hand down his face, “I’m sorry, that was rude.”

A cluster of pansies squeaked up at him.

His face grew hot. “Yeah, I already told you guys he’s handsome. Handsome enough to not take someone like me into consideration.”

The whole shop buzzed with flora outcry, protesting his words. He smiled bashfully, throwing his hood over his head and balling his hands inside his sleeves.

“That really wasn’t necessary…” he mumbled, still partially hiding his face.

He listened to their suggestions. The vines, offended, offered to strangle the guy enough to scare him away, and the daisies requested to set up an investigation on him using spies planted around the village. While these were two of the worst ideas he’d ever heard, he appreciated the support.

A tiny bluebell spoke, his question making the room go silent.

Virgil took off his hood, holding his head in the palm of his hand. “His name is Roman. He’s absolutely beautiful, little flower, like a…”

He couldn’t find the words he wanted. “Like, he’s very poised and elegant- something _regal_ , and he’s a writer. He told me about this time he fought a feral chimera, saving a mom and her kids from getting ripped to shreds. But he wasn’t even bragging, not really,” he went on wistfully, the plants nodding approvingly, “he was respectful, and nice, and…”

A rosemary bush by the window muttered something. The rest of the plants started saying it and Virgil blushed furiously.

Before he could address it, more scratching came from the notepad. The handwriting was new, loopier. 

_‘Hello, Virgil! Indeed, I will be carrying my notebook from now on, so we may all chat when we feel like it. I hope to see you soon.’_

Roman was drawing something. When it was finished, it appeared to be a carnation.

Virgil sighed at the rejoicing sounds of flowers, smiling wordlessly at the paper. This place really wasn’t what he’d expected.


	8. Companions

Logan sat at his desk, reading and breathing in the scent of books. His novella was a lighter read than he usually picked out, reflecting his upbeat mood as of late.

The sun had yet to rise. His only light hung above him, encasing him in a sphere of gold while the rest of the world slept.

Well, that’s what he believed, until something startled him on his notebook. A dark, powdery substance had fallen across the page where Logan had been messaging Patton.

Examination of the substance yielded no results. Picking up his pen, he wrote a cautious message to Patton.

_ ‘Patton? What was that?’ _

The substance began to clear away, but there were still large remnants stained into the paper. Words began to appear under his.

_ ‘Hi Logan, didn’t think you’d be up this early! Sorry about the mess, I’m making cinnamon rolls- got a bit excited.’ _

His stomach growled, the noise akin to an avalanche in the empty shop. 

He ignored it.  _ ‘As long as you’re alright.’ _

Logan set down the notebook, deliberately cutting himself short. After a few moments of failing to return to his reading, more words appeared.

_ ‘There’s some time before we open up. Do you wanna come hang out with me? I’d love the company.’ _

_ ‘I wouldn’t want to impose, Patton.’ _

_ ‘Don’t be silly! I love being around you. Hurry up, or the cinnamon rolls’ll be cold by the time you get here.’ _

Logan blinked. When he got up from his desk and put on his jacket, the sun was peering from over the horizon.

…

Patton’s shop had become the most popular location in the village since its founding, in Logan’s humble opinion. People would line up down the block, and it was a wonder Patton never seemed tired of the attention. He knew he himself would detest it.

He opened the door and was instantly engulfed in the scent of cinnamon sugar. The lights were turned down low, sunlight trailing in from the windows.

Patton was leaning against the counter and facing the oven, wearing a pleasant smile.

Looking over, it grew evermore radiant. “Morning, Logan,” he said, stifling a yawn. “You doing okay?”

Logan nodded. 

“Good, good,” Patton drawled, turning his attention back to the oven. “Please, sit down.”

He sat on the barstool closet to Patton and reached for his notebook. 

Empty pockets. Odd: he rarely forgot any of his personal belongings.

The thought must have shown on his face because Patton looked less sleepy. Slightly concerned, even. “You sure you’re good?”

Logan motioned to Patton’s notebook, then to his own empty hands.

“Oh, you left your book at home? Well, you can use mine if it bothers you.” He handed him the book.

Logan accepted it gratefully, a sour taste in his mouth.

The kitchen was quiet, the smell of freshly-baking goods and Patton the only things keeping him from being irritated.

Patton turned to face him, leaning over the counter. “Is your book the only way you can talk to people?”

Logan bit his lip. This man was so ridiculously sweet. They were very close, and he could see freckles dotting his nose. If Patton spent his time outdoors, there would unquestionably be more. The thought of counting them was wholeheartedly tempting.

“Lo?”

He turned red, concentrating on the notebook as he wrote.

_ ‘I can perform sign language.’ _

Patton was practically shining. “Really? That’s amazing!”

Logan sighed, setting down the book and smiling. 

‘You’re amazing, Patton.’ He signed.

“What’d you just say?” Patton asked eagerly.

_ ‘I said thank you, Patton.’ _

“That’s really, really cool,” Patton said, “you know, I think-“

They both jumped as a loud kitchen timer rang shrilly. Patton rushed to turn it off, leaving a relatively large space between them.

He noticed a rather sad look flash across his friend’s eyes. Before he could ask, it was gone, and Patton took the trays out of the oven.

“Well, these look pretty good, they just need the icing! You wanna help?”

It didn’t take long to make his decision. Logan liked baking and decorating, even if he was less than proficient, and there was still a moderate amount of time before he had to leave.

He got up and into the kitchen. Patton grinned, handing him a spare apron, and they got to work, generously icing the hot rolls.

…

  
  


Patton appraised the rolls with crossed arms. “You think they’re done?”

Logan nodded, looking at them with assuredly-lower standards.

“Only one way to find out,” he said, gesturing to the many cinnamon rolls, “go on, I need a taste tester.”

He thought that sentiment only logical. 

After selecting one, he pushed one of the trays closer to Patton, who got the message and took one for himself.

“Hope they’re tasty,” Patton toasted, taking a bite.

Logan followed suit. He could almost feel his pupils dilate with how delicious it was, the flavor greeting him like a hug, the warmth and texture of the bread exquisite.

He ate energetically, Patton watching with wide eyes.

“If I’d’ve known you were that hungry, Lo, I wouldn’t have taken so long with the icing,” he chuckled, “you should’ve told me.”

The icing made his hands sticky, so he couldn’t respond other than nodding happily, trying desperately to express how good it was. At one point, he made an involuntary, embarrassing squeak. It made Patton laugh, though, so he supposed it wasn’t altogether disconcerting.

They finished, taking turns washing their hands in the sink. If he was alone, he’d unquestionably be licking the icing off his fingers before washing up, but something told him that would be extremely compromising-  _ especially  _ in front of Patton.

For what reason, he did not know. Something he would have to analyze later.

There was some icing on the corner of Patton’s mouth. Logan got his attention, pointing to the corner of his own mouth, then to Patton.

“Hm?” Patton studied his movements, letting him repeat the motion a few times. “Sorry, I don’t really understand.”

Logan huffed. Ordinary people did this hand motion all the time.

Realization flickered in his expression. “Oh! Oh, I mean…” Patton hesitated. “If you’re sure?”

What did he mean by that? Yes, he was certain there was icing on his face.

Logan nodded firmly.

Patton walked up to him, taking both of his hands in his own. “Is this okay?”

Now he was getting confused. He nodded, eyeing him curiously.

Patton smiled warmly, standing on tiptoe so they were the same height, using their hands for stability. Then he leaned forward and planted a kiss on his cheek.

Logan’s cheeks were burning from the second his lips touched his skin. When Patton drew back, his own cheeks a light pink, there was less icing on his face.

He was still smiling, but when he saw the icing transferred to Logan’s face, something seemed to click. 

“Oh...you were saying I had something on my face.” Patton said, hands tensing around Logan’s, lowering his heels back to the floor. “Sorry, I thought...sorry, I’ll try to communicate with you better before doing things like that.” He laughed nervously, face turning more serious when Logan didn’t respond. “Are you okay?”

The feeling in his chest made this scenario feel both very right and very wrong for different reasons. Patton looked concerned, however.

He extricated his hands from where Patton was holding them and reached for the notebook. His handwriting suffered with every heartbeat.

_ ‘Everything is perfectly alright, Patton. I apologize, I should have written my thoughts down- it was never my intention to make you uncomfortable.’ _

He paused, then smiled as he wrote another line.  _ ‘However, there is still icing on your face.’ _

Patton looked distressed as he read the note until he got to the end. He grinned, wiping the icing off. “You know, I think you have some on your face, too.”

He wiped it off, the spot where Patton’s lips had touched like a brand.

A ray of sunlight fell into Patton’s hair. They looked out the window where the sun had risen completely, signaling the start of the day. He had an inkling feeling that he’d already experienced the highlight of it.

“Right, I guess you better get going,” Patton said, stepping back, “it was a lot of fun...you’re sure everything’s okay?”

Logan tried to convey most of his feelings in a look, all of the ones he could understand.

Patton seemed to get the message.


	9. Beastly

Roman got out of bed, refreshed from a good night’s sleep. The sun was already up, nothing new there, filling his heart and soul with illustrious light.

After dressing and brushing his teeth, he picked up his notebook.

He adored this new little group they’d formed together. Patton would often doodle in his messages, making cute little dogs and cats. Last time they’d had a conversation, Logan performed a complicated spell to make one of the cats move about the page, batting around the words and stretching. Virgil, an exceptional artist, drew a meadow for the cat to frolic in.

Breathing a sigh of contentment, he checked for anything new.

_‘To: Roman_

_Roman I am being entirely serious when I say you need to come to my shop, NOW._ _Emergency_ _. Please hurry.’_

Listed below was an address.

The ink was still wet.

  
  


…

  
  


He ran the entire way, getting to the right street in no time. Virgil was standing in front of what looked to be a magnificent shop, huddled inside his large hoodie, tapping his foot anxiously.

Roman ran the remaining distance, screeching to a halt in front of Virgil.

Virgil looked at him in surprise. “Wow, you got here quick.”

“I needed to make sure you were safe,” Roman said, looking Virgil up and down, “are you alright? What’s the emergency?”

Virgil blinked for a second, face blank when a humongous burst of flame reared inside the shop, making both of them instinctively step back.

“As you can see,” Virgil blanched, staring nervously at the window, “there’s something in there. You’re the animal expert, I thought you might know how to deal with it.”

“Did you see what species it might be?”

“All I saw was fire. I was too scared about my plants getting hurt, so I just panicked and contacted you. But it’s small, whatever it is.”

Roman steeled himself, hand on the hilt of his sword. He saw Virgil staring at it, an amused look on his face and he immediately became defensive. “What, you said it was an emergency!”

Virgil held up his hands. “No problem here,” he said innocuously.

He edged towards the window to get a look at the creature only to be thrown backwards as a large, white-ish tail smacked violently across the window.

“What’s the game plan here, Roman,” Virgil asked pensively at his side. “Whatever it is, I wouldn’t go in there without something to protect you from fire.”

He was right. Checking around the area, he found two trash cans in an alley with wide, silver lids.

Handing one to Virgil, he braced himself and started towards the door.

Roman stepped very slowly into the building, Virgil close behind. The inside of the shop was dark and miraculously unburned. He scanned the room, and in seconds he spotted the beast hiding under a desk, its green eyes narrowed, the pupils the width of a needle: snakelike. A startling growl echoed around the room, the vibrations ringing in his skull.

Crouching down, he got a much better view; it was certifiably a dragon, but peculiar, more Labrador-esque. Though likely older than both Roman and Virgil combined, its size appeared stunted, with an odd, mangled mixture of white fur and scales. Filth and dirt covered most of it.

The dragon was _irate_.

“We need to be very careful,” Roman whispered to Virgil, who hadn’t seen it yet, “and we need to respect its intelligence. That’s how you work with animals here- _especially_ the magic ones.”

“Whatever you say, Roman, I’d just really like to avoid plant homicide here.”

He set down his trash can lid slowly, sensing a spike of nerves in Virgil as he did so, while the dragon squinted suspiciously at the pair of them from under the desk, scratching the wooden floor.

“Hey there, little dragon...I’m Roman, and this is my friend Virgil,” he said to the beast, “we’re not going to hurt you. Do you need some water, or any kind of food we could get you?”

The dragon’s eyes widened perceptively.

“I don’t think you’re here on purpose…” he crooned, lowering himself onto his elbows. “I’m sorry, you’re probably really scared right now. Were you just trying to get out of the cold?”

Virgil got down on his knees and sat next to him. “I’m sorry if I scared you earlier. You aren’t hurt, right?”

With small, trembling movements, the dragon moved from under the desk, switching its gaze between them.

Roman smiled gently. “There now, everything’s okay.” He turned to Virgil, putting a hand on his arm. “Do you have a bowl so we can give the little one some water?”

Though he seemed fairly shocked at how well this was going, Virgil nodded, carefully avoiding scaring the dragon as he went into a back room to retrieve a bowl.

He turned soft eyes towards the dragon again, brushing his hand across the floor. “You’re very brave. I’m so proud of you, little dragon. We really appreciate how smart you are.”

Then the dragon’s tail began to thump against the floor, delighting and puzzling Roman. “You’re cute, as well! I’ve never met such a sweet, friendly dragon.”

It started to pant, and the next thing he knew it was at his face, licking him with a sizable forked tongue.

Virgil came back with the water and his mouth gaped at the sight. “Didn’t you say that was a _dragon?”_

When it calmed down, having drank its fill of the water, Roman took initiative, Virgil watching tentatively.

“If there’s not anything else we can do to help you, is there perhaps another location we could take you? A home den, or a cave, or…”

His words trailed off as the beast started to lay down, stretching its paws covered in scales. It shook its head lazily, looking up at them with sparkling green eyes.

Roman and Virgil looked blankly at each other.

“Sorry, what? You don’t want to go?” Virgil said, clearly rattled.

The dragon was already falling asleep, but reached out a long paw towards them, resting it against one of Virgil’s sneakers.

Roman thought it precious, but Virgil tugged on his sleeve, motioning to the back room.

  
  


...

  
  


They moved quietly into the back.

There were bags of dirt, heat lamps, seeds, gardening tools...nothing special. It felt more like a closet than anything, and they didn’t have much room to move around with the two of them in there.

Virgil groaned, burying his face in his hands. “She doesn’t want to go...how on earth are we going to get her out of here?”

Roman’s confused look couldn’t be hidden when they were so close to each other, Virgil’s hands sliding off his face to give Roman an icy glare. “You’re killing me, Roman. That thing had a clitoris, not a penis, and unless it tells us to do otherwise, I’m calling it a she.”

“Right, right,” Roman flushed, hoping Virgil couldn’t see him well in the dark. “Moving on from that delightful topic, I suggest we shelter her with you.”

He was about to object, but Roman held up a finger. “Listen, you ball of gloom, that creature has the potential to send your shop up in flames. If we upset her, she could hurt us, or other people, and we don’t want that to happen.”

Virgil sighed, looking away from him. “No, we don’t.”

“Personally, I don’t think she would ever do such a thing, being the sweetheart she is, but the possibility is still there. What I would suggest,” he said, trying to be optimistic when Virgil was clearly unhappy about the situation, “is that we offer her lodging for the day, take care of her, give her a much-needed bath, then see if we can find a better arrangement tomorrow.”

“We wouldn’t be able to go to work with that plan, but it’s not like forcing her out would do any good,” Virgil reasoned. 

However hard they attempted to come up with another plan, nothing would work as well as the original. After settling in for that decision, they had a somewhat comfortable silence. 

A whistling, snuffling snore coming in came in through the cracks around the door.

Roman looked at Virgil, and the dark tricked him into seeing fondness in his eyes. 

“I don’t know anyone who could’ve done what you just did.” Virgil said simply. “It’s incredible, watching you use your magic like that. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

The little room seemed to be getting hotter, and he tried to push himself against the wall for some air. It didn’t work. “Yes, well,” he mumbled, not entirely sure of what to say.

Virgil looked up into what he could see of Roman in the dark. “I’ve never been any good with animals.”

“How come?”

He hesitated, pulling at the sleeves of his hoodie. “Didn’t have pets growing up.”

Roman frowned- he couldn’t imagine what it would be like, growing up without a pet. “That’s awful. But don’t you...like animals?”

He asked with great trepidation, because he knew he wouldn’t be able to get along with a person who didn’t like animals at least a little.

“Oh, yeah, animals are great. They usually don’t take to me, that’s all.”

Roman let go of the breath he’d been holding. _Thank goodness._

“So,” Virgil said casually, “where are we going to find out how to take care of a dragon?”

“The bookshop, of course! There is unquestionably a book or two on dragon care in there- I’ll just ask Logan to lend it to me.”

Virgil hummed as Roman took out his notebook, scribbling his message away regarding their odd turn of events. “I still haven’t met Logan. I really need to come over sometime and introduce myself.”

“He’s a wonderful man, I assure you- intelligent, sentimental, bookish...a great match for Patton,” he said, gesturing offhandedly with his pencil as he wrote.

“You’re obsessed with them, are they _really_ that good together?” Virgil asked curiously.

Roman put the notebook away and placed a hand on his shoulder, barely having to reach in the confined space. “They are the best pair I’ve ever seen. I couldn’t name two souls better aligned.”

“Right, well,” Virgil glanced down at his shoulder, “when you’re done waxing poetic, I think we have a solid plan, so we can go back out there and face the dragon.”

“What, don’t you want me to slay it for you,” he said jokingly, leaning in so he was inches away, pouting his lips. “I could, if you so desired it. I have a sword and everything.”

Virgil snorted, pushing him lightly into the wall. “As if, Princey.”

This comment seemed to momentarily stun both of them into sobriety.

“What...did you just call me?” Roman’s still face broke slowly into a grin. “ _Princey?”_

“Shut up, Roman-”

“I’m sorry, who’s _Roman?_ I only go by my given _pet name._ ”

Virgil was blushing scarlet, scowling menacingly at him. But it was much too late- he’d said it, and Roman would pester him about this moment forever.

He couldn’t let up, Virgil was just too much. “Princey, huh? Do I act like a prince, noble and courageous, saving stormclouds in distress from terrifying dragons?”

“If I say yes, will you shut up?” Virgil pleaded. “And if I hear a _word_ about this anywhere other than here-”

“Oh, I would never,” Roman dismissed, “besides, it’s more special like this. We get to keep this cute little pet name between us and us alone.”

His face pained with how much he was smiling. Virgil pushed the door beside them open, grumbling and walking away.

“You know you love me,” he called out after him, “I’m your prince!”

“A royal pain in the ass is what you are,” Virgil said wearily.


	10. Unapologetic

Patton smiled as the little bell tinkled above the bookshop door, settling deeper into his armchair and letting his hold soften on the book he was reading for a moment.

Logan had given him a book recently about the history of cats after a lengthy discussion about their favorite animals. He really liked it so far, and it gave him a good excuse to come over to the bookshop after work.

He had a crush on Logan now, but soon? At this rate he’d probably be completely in love with him. All the time they spent either talking or hanging out definitely wasn’t helping, because any time he learned something new about Logan, he just wanted to know more, or spend more time with him.

Logan seemed to like him a lot, too. Roman had taken to telling Patton how much happier he looked since he got here.

This got him thinking.  _ ‘Has Logan not met Virgil yet? They need to, they talk on the notebooks all the time…’ _

Refocusing on the book, he found himself absorbed in a chapter about cats in medieval times.   
  


…

The warmth and coziness of the chair eventually got to him. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been out, but by the time he woke up there wasn’t any light coming in through the windows besides the glow of the streetlamps.

He tried to stretch, wake up, get a single ounce of energy in him…

Nothing worked and he relaxed again, content with taking another nap until he saw Logan.

Some guy was standing at the desk in front of him, hunched over with his hands placed arrogantly on the desk. If Patton had to give him an adjective, it’d probably be ‘slimy’.

His tone was bitter. “Oh, yeah, I’m  _ sure  _ you don’t have it. Isn’t your bookshop supposed to be the best? Well I want this book, and I know you have it around here somewhere.”

Logan started writing something and the guy tapped his foot angrily, tapping yellow nails on the desk.

When the guy read the note, he let out a snort of unamused laughter. “You fucking dipshit liar! I’m not falling for that,” he snapped, leaning further into Logan’s face, “are you tryna insult me, you fucking wordless piece of shit?”

Patton was out of his chair and beside the man before either of them could say anything else. “Excuse me,” he said, smiling dangerously. “What seems to be the problem here?”

The guy turned to look at him, a snarl on his lips, but something in his face brightened. “Patton?”

Patton opened his mouth, closing it when he recognized the guy as a regular in his shop. He looked entirely different when he was this enraged. “Hi? You’re acting really disrespectful.”

The guy seemed to deflate at the lack of enthusiasm on his part. “Well, he’s not getting me this book I need-”

“He  _ said  _ he doesn’t have it.”

“What, and you believe him? You can’t trust guys like this,” he said, frowning at Logan sitting calmly in his chair.

Patton felt his fingernails cut into the palms of his hands.

“I’ll put it like this.” He actually started to fucking whisper into Patton’s ear, occasionally shooting Logan dirty looks, putting an arm around his shoulders. “His brain doesn’t work the same way ours do. There’s just...screws loose.”

The guy sneered, breath hot on his neck. “He can’t even talk, for fuck’s sake, how do you expect him to-”

Something snapped, and Patton grabbed the guy by his collar before slamming him against the nearest wall. He looked shocked and hurt, but Patton thought he should be grateful he didn’t have him by the throat.

“I want you to listen to me very carefully,” Patton said, voice low enough for only them to hear. “I don’t want to see you in my bakery ever again, and I  _ definitely  _ don’t want to see you anywhere near Logan. Get near him with that disgusting attitude again? Nothing good will come of it, I  _ promise  _ you.”

The guy tried to wriggle out of his grip, looking at him with wide eyes. “The fuck, man?!”

Patton still kept his voice to a whisper. “I’m not going to tolerate any kind of hate towards people who are different. Especially ones as incredible as Logan.”

He paused in his struggle, eyes narrowing, lowering his voice as well. “What, are you fucking him? You can do better.”

Anger surged through him like fire and he lifted the guy so his feet barely touched the floor. 

“Get out before I do something I regret.”

Patton let him go, and the guy shot both of them a nasty look before sprinting out the door, his cowardice following him.

He sighed, covering his eyes with a hand and falling back against the wall.

A hand intertwined with his. 

Looking up, he saw Logan holding out his notebook.  _ ‘What on Earth was that? I have never seen you act that way with anyone. Did he say something untoward to you?’ _

“He said-“

Patton hesitated, remembering all the awful things that sewer rat had said, rage flowing in him like molten lava.

Logan’s eyes grew worried, his grip tightening.

He managed to get the words out without getting angry again. “He was saying so much bad stuff about you and I just couldn’t take it. You’re amazing, Lo, why doesn’t everyone see that?”

Logan blinked at him, confused. He took his hand away to write something down. As he did, Patton tried to wrap his head around the idea of not liking Logan.

He held out the book.  _ ‘I am nothing spectacular, Patton. I thought that man had insulted you for some inane reason- is that not the case?’ _

“What do you mean, ‘nothing spectacular’? You’re extraordinary.”

Logan’s ears went pink but he ignored the praise, instead underlining his second sentence.

Patton huffed. “No, he wasn’t insulting me, he was insulting you.”

When he handed the book over, he looked down at him past his glasses.  _ ‘It happens. You could have left it alone. I do not want you getting hurt on my behalf.’ _

He stood his ground, defiant. “As long as I’m around, no one is going to be mean to you again. I promise.”


End file.
